


In the Autumn

by EGEllery



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Amaurotines (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, I Ship It, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Romance, Soulmates, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EGEllery/pseuds/EGEllery
Summary: Azem and Emet meet in the wake of the Incident at Grape Island.
Relationships: Azem & Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV), Azem & Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	In the Autumn

Azem had returned. 

There was no official word of it, but the echoes from the streets below heralded it.

Voices rose up, with laughter and squeals. There were the requisite ‘ooh’s!’ and “ahh’s!” and a hefty dose of curiosity which spawned more than one impulsive question. Excitement was a pot rarely stirred in Amaurot, so when the kettle boiled over, it was to a particularly messy result.

“It seems our friend is back,” Hythodaeus said, masked gaze rising from a sheaf of papers to glance through the doors of the Bureau of the Architect. “Shall we say hello?” 

Suddenly, he was trapped in the vaguely curious, vaguely bemused stare that his friend had turned upon him. Hythlodaeus’s cloaked head tilted sideways, and despite the mask he could see the very thoughts bubbling in the other man’s mind. It prickled at him, that soft curve of a smile that curled one corner of his lips. He bristled. 

“No, there’s work to be done.” 

With his usual calm, Hythlodaeus set down his pen, pushed back his chair, and stood, pausing just long enough to say, “Suit yourself, my friend, but one of these days--” 

Then, with a slow and moseying gait, he wandered from within the hall to without, pointing a wagging finger the entire way. The honorable Emet-Selch didn’t budge, but instead bent forward and turned his attention to his work. What strains of sound did reach him, however, tickled at his mind, teasing it and drawing forth the temptation to follow Hythlodaeus outside. 

To do so felt like a reward. It felt as if by going there, he would be condoning the actions of a person who had defied not only the Convocation, but had broken more rules than could have been imagined. Lahabrea was still furious-- although secretly intrigued to know that the plan had worked-- about the loss of his beloved creation. It had been a hash all around, and one that Azem would soon enough pay the price for. 

“Foolish.” 

Suddenly, soft strains of laughter rose up above the voices of the crowd. The sound of it jerked him from his resolution to ignore it all, his head snapping up, eyes turned toward the doorway. He’d known that laugh his entire life, although the tone of it had changed over the years. It grabbed at him now in the same way it had grabbed at him then, in the days when such things as rules had yet to be enforced. 

Alas, she had never seemed to take to them, anyway. 

His mouth went dry at the sound, his heart kicking up a steady thrum in his chest. He felt a little ill over it, and forced himself to turn his focus back to the page, putting pen to paper in order that he might pretend away the lump gathered in his throat. She’d always affected him thus, and he had no reason for it, no explanation why her voice should engender in him a well of fear and longing. 

“Emet!” 

The sound of his name on such familiar strains of voice called to him, drawing his gaze, and it punched the air from his lungs to see her there before him. As always, she obeyed no rules and followed no mandates, but instead chose to barrel through life on a whim and a prayer. 

The moment he saw her, he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the marble floor just before it tumbled over behind him. He ignored it, choosing instead to straighten his spine and brace himself for impact, but there was a desk between them, and so he found himself safe from her enthusiasm for the moment. 

He was not, however, immune to the very sight of her. 

Hood pushed back, pale hair flying messy and free. She clutched her mask in one hand and a dark green bottle in the other. Blue eyes sparkled at him from behind a veil of freckles, and her perfect lips were parted in a smile bright enough to rival the sun. 

It stole his breath. It stole his words. It stole everything he’d ever wished to deny. 

Hythlodaeus followed slowly in her wake, striding smugly through the eye of her storm, seemingly untouched by the light and fire of her. He frowned at his friend, and turned his eyes away for a moment, lifting one balled fist to his mouth so that he might clear his throat. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, and so they moved a little aimlessly until he resolved to clasp them at his front. 

_Clunk!_

The sound of a heavy glass hitting the wooden surface of his desk drew his attention back, and his eyes followed a single lock of wheat-colored hair downward to the place where she’d laid the bottle. A mere second later, that selfsame carafe was framed by a pair of perfect hands, its glittering greenish hue caught in the heart-shaped bow of two pointers and two thumbs. 

“Wait until you taste this wine!” She said, her mouth forming words that he could barely comprehend. Instead, he stared when she caught her bottom lip between two rows of perfect teeth, grinning at him with a conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes. “Made from the very best grapes.” 

She seemed pleased with herself for a person who’d nearly died in the doing. The entire thing was on record now, from the island to the people to the volcano to the hair brained scheme to save a single fruit from the jaws of extinction. She wasn’t just famous, she was infamous. 

_Notorious._

“Lahabrea has lodged a formal complaint,” he said, the words exiting his soul with all the fire of an icicle. He did, however, manage to imbue them with the requisite amount of scorn, and a tiny touch of derision. “And for what?” 

Drawing in a breath, she rolled her eyes, rolling her head toward Hythlodaeus in the doing. When he turned his head, it was to find his white-masked friend’s eyes upon him, that knowing smile set firmly in place. He hated that smile, because he knew what it meant. And Hythlodaeus was wont to turn it upon him at any given moment. 

Suddenly, the touch of a finger upon his nose startled him, but before he could move away, she’d run a single digit up the arch and underneath his mask, lifting it from his features and pulling it away. The air felt chill on his flesh then, and he realized he was sweating. The knowledge of that made it worse, kicking his heart into a pace that made him draw in a sudden breath. 

He snatched after the mask, but she pulled it away, holding it behind her so that Hythlodaeus could pluck it from her fingertips and tuck it behind his back. Using the momentum of his grab, she tugged back the veil of his hood, tumbling white hair about his shoulders. 

He paused, stock still, breath held as gold met cerulean. 

Her mischievous smile softened as she traced along the curve of his jaw with one finger then raised her hand to smooth away the wrinkle that had gathered between his brows. 

“Always so serious,” she said, and he straightened his spine, pulling away from her delicate touch. 

“One of us has to be,” he snapped back. “Lest all of us be dead of your foolishness.” 

Something in her wilted, fire and sunshine draining away to leave a crushed flower behind. Her shoulders sagged and her expression fell and she slid a little sideways so that she might prop herself up on his desk. 

“We’ll all be dead soon enough,” she said, and from Azem-- the eternal optimist-- it was a startling pronouncement. Those sapphire blue eyes of hers were turned to the desk, focused on the place where she drew little hearts in the wood with the tip of one finger. “If ever there was a time to take a chance on something, it’s now.” 

“Indeed, wiser words were never spoken.” Hythlodaeus chimed in, his voice a gentle rumble in the semi-silence. When he looked to the man, he found him much sobered, but still… something… and despite the fact that his expression had barely changed, Emet found he could read that half-masked look like a book. 

_Now is the moment, that look said, and you may not get another… ever._

“And besides, Lahabrea is an arrogant fool with far too high an opinion of himself,” she added, breaking the tension in the room. Her words gathered something in his chest, stirring some dormant terror that rose up in the form of censure, because he didn’t know how else to tell her just how much he feared for her life. 

“Foolish girl!” he spat, and slammed one hand down upon the desk. In the periphery, he could see Hythlodaeus slowly shake his head. “You act without consideration. You disobey without qualm. You have not heeded a single rule in your life, and you will pay for that!” 

Snatching up a folded missive, he tossed it toward the place where her fingers still traced figures upon the desk. The letter slid, one corner bouncing off the green wine bottle, an action which set it to spinning until it finally came to rest beneath the pointed tip of one perfect digit. She stared at the letter. Stared at the seal upon it. There was a long and silent moment when she seemed to consider it, before mumbling, “So this is it, then.” 

“Aye,” he growled. “This is it, and good luck with it. I do not think you’ll escape unscathed this time.”

Gathering himself, he turned and righted the chair, pushing it dutifully back into its place before sidestepping the desk. He’d straightened his shoulders before, but they curved just slightly now, hunched beneath the weight of duty and regret. One hand rose, fingers raking through his own loose hair, pushing it back from his face so that he could flip the hood back over his head. 

“Emet,” she said, her voice like warm honey. 

He turned to her then, but she didn’t look at him, her eyes focused instead upon the bottle of wine. She hadn’t made a move to open the letter. Probably because they all knew what it portended. He waited for her to speak and reached a hand out to Hythlodaeus who placed his mask back into his palm. He held it for a moment, golden eyes drinking in the unhindered sight of her where she’d propped herself upon his desk. 

Suddenly, he found himself caught in the tempest of blue. 

“Will I see you in the autumn?” she asked, her fingers plucking at the wax seal of the missive. “Will you come when they turn me loose?” 

His heart pulled in his chest, aching with a ferocity that did not show upon his face. Behind him, the door to the Bureau opened and the sound of two dozen footsteps spilled through. He didn’t turn, but he knew nevertheless, and raised the mask to his face so that he might affix it in place once more. 

When he didn’t answer, she stood, but her eyes never left his face. “Hades.” 

She couldn’t see the way he closed his eyes behind his mask. She couldn’t see the way he held his breaths, fearful that if he let one go, he might not be able to draw another. She couldn’t see the way he swallowed past the knot in his throat and tried to find the words to say what he’d always wanted to say. 

“Goodbye, Azem,” he told her. “May this be a lesson to you.” 

When he turned, it was to witness the other masked faces of the remaining Convocation members. Silence reigned as he lifted his face to meet their curious gazes, to let his eyes pass over each and every one in turn. They’d come to dispense justice, and he would not stand in their way. 

_“Hades, please…” ___

____

__

Her voice was as a lightning strike to his soul. 

_Now is the moment, and you may never get another..._

One step, then two. After that it was easier. The Convocation parted as he passed, their cloaked forms swaying sideways, their masked stares following him from the room. He could feel their eyes upon him as he traced his way into the warmth and sunlight of a perfect spring morning.

The rains had ceased and they had been graced with another beautiful day. 

One of the last. 

_... ever._


End file.
